Bondo was a big fellow, but the two standing near him with transport caps pulled down over their eyes weren’t small, either. Not as tall as Bondo, and not quite as muscular. But there were two of them. Both wore the more expensive looking red jackets that the transport girl was wearing, too. Red leather, with white stripes down the sleeves.

Bondo stood and looked at them simply. “I look where I want. This is our place. You don’t like it, pays y’money then take y’grain an’ leave. Or just leave. I don’ care.”

“We leave soon e’nuf, ape. Just keep your eyes in yer head, and don’t look like that at our sister. Unnerstand?”

“I...” Bondo said slowly, “What d’you mean by that?” He looked over at the girl again. She was looking at Bondo with an expression he couldn’t really read; it was a cross between how some of his siblings looked when it was time to slaughter some of the livestock, and how his sister Cathai looked at the leger when tallying up the day’s money.

He turned back to them. “How can a look be ba-“

The blow came quickly, striking him on the jaw and turning his head almost all the way to his left. It didn’t really hurt, but it did surprise him. The second blow from the other brother did sting a bit, though, and when they both started pounding on him again and again, Bondo still felt more confused than hurt or upset.

It took only a second or two for him to realize both the nature of the situation and the ideal solution to it.

This was a Transport clan. And Bondo had forgotten that issues between Transport clans were frequently settled by brawling on the loading docks.

Bondo’s alleged ‘looks’ were likely an excuse to solve a pricing issue between the clan and his PawPaw. Likely this clan wanted to change the price, and Bondo’s father had refused to let them load the remainder of the grain, release the gravity locks on their transports, or any of a dozen other ways experience had taught them to respond to unfair business practices.

Bondo, now blocking the blows of the two brothers while these points went through his head, considered his options:

He could quietly take the beating. It wouldn’t likely last long or be much of a beating, since Transport clans typically weren’t that strong, relied on numbers or intimidation to get their way and then running off before reinforcements arrived.

But Bondo hated that idea.

Or, he could try to delay them until help arrived. Cathai knew that she was to call for any of their seven younger brothers to come and help if anything like this happened on the docks. But this might not be the best option, since Cathai looked in shock to see actual violence taking place in front of her, and only two of his brothers were really big enough to help in a situation like this anyway.

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Or, he could fight them himself.

He was fending the blows fairly well. Sensing that they weren’t making much of an impact, the Transport brothers switched from simple pounding with the side of their fists to more painful methods, pushing their middle knuckles forward with their thumbs and hitting Bondo through his coveralls and actually starting to sting a bit.

Normally, Bondo was fairly quiet in speech and reserved in action. But being the victim of sudden and undeserved violence shifted something in him. The red of his attackers’ jackets began to infuse everything in Bondo’s field of vision. Soon Bondo saw a red, hazy fog over the loading bay. And over Cathai. And over the cavernous mouth of the Transport vessel in front of the loading bay. And over the boys attacking Bondo himself.

Bondo suddenly reached out to the first of the Transport brothers who’d swung at him, grabbing his shirt in a large-fisted grip and pulling him forward. Bondo moved quickly for someone so large, and when the Transport brother realized he was in Bondo’s grip his face showed surprise and fear.

And Bondo liked that.

Bondo yanked him forward and down, dropping down with his prey and letting his trim but still sizable bulk drop on top of the smaller, now screaming bully. Bondo straddled the Transport boy’s chest, his large knees pinning down the boy’s arms. Bondo felt the flesh of the boy’s arms squish and snap against his knees, making the boy scream even louder in pain while the other brother rained down blow after ineffectual blow on Bondo’s unfeeling head.

Bondo, still liking his position of strength, punched his former attacker in the face with both his large fists again and again. Bondo hit without the experience of a dedicated fighter but with enough power and swelling anger to make up for the lack. When the boy’s face became slippery from blood, Bondo stood up and stopped the hand of the other brother by grabbing it in his own sizable fist.

The other brother laid still, moaning in pain and calling for his mother. Bondo turned and looked at his new opponent, who’d stopped screaming for help and now faced Bondo with a gulp and fear in his eyes.

Bondo, holding the other brother’s fist, squeezed his own sizable hand while holding the gaze of the boy in front of him. And Bondo wasn’t even aware of how his own face pulled into a smile as the other boy’s face went from fear to wide-eyed, silent, open-mouthed pain in a matter of seconds as the smaller bones in the smaller boy’s fist began to pop and crack and...

“Bondo?” said a voice behind him.

Bondo realized that his teeth were gritted shut, and his lips were pulled back into a grin without humor. “What, Cathai?” he said between his clenched teeth.

“Look around, Bondo. Look around.”

Bondo looked around.

Behind the young man whose wrist Bondo was about to break were perhaps two dozen more young men, all similarly dressed with metal clubs and other tools in their hands.

Behind Bondo were his three oldest younger brothers, and maybe a dozen of his cousins. None as large as Bondo, but almost all similarly built and holding much larger tools in their hands.

Bondo felt the heat at his temples cool, and the red haze fled like magic. He was once again in the loading bay and it looked as it had since he’d been a youngling, watching his father load either by hand or with the loading bots.

He let the young man’s fist go.

#

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TO BE CONTINUED...